Oreo
by RuGrimm
Summary: The day that Undertaker discovered...the Oreo cookie.


Undertaker hummed to himself nonchalantly, a gingerbread cookie in the shape of a bone pressed firmly between the corners of his pale lips. He stood hanging over his examination table with a smug smile gracing his half concealed face and hat pressing his bangs further down over his shadowed eyes not many had seen. Carrion stretched out on the cold oak surface, Undertaker's deft fingers prepared the corpse for its life's final event. It was beauty in the making!

A hollow knock interrupted his trivial thoughts, and he looked up to the old wooden door of his mortuary as it creaked open. The old mortician squinted only slightly behind the veil of silver while he tried to make out who could possibly be coming in at this hour. Normally he could tell who came in by the sound of their footsteps and their overall aura, but this was one he did not recognize. Each step caused the floorboards to groan beneath the heavy weight applied to each one as if the person purposefully stepped on every single one.

"You Undertake'?" grunted the man who Undertaker knew was standing on the other side of his table/desk.

The silver-haired man chuckled darkly, grabbing a towel blindly and wiping off his bloody hands. He didn't care if the man saw the bloody patient there or not. It was his loss. After all, they were in a mortuary; it was to be expected. Undertaker loved to frighten the mortals of the world anyway, and if his senses were correct-as they were often-this was Fredrick Martin, the local delivery man about the age of forty or so. Poor Freddie would die in the next year from the arising conflict of the World War. Pity it wouldn't end for another three years or so. _'1918?'_ Undertaker thought to himself as he grinned wide and tilted his head to the side, careful not to let his precious hat fall from his head. _'Oh well~!'_

"Indeed~ What can I do for you, Freddie? Come for a casket, did ya?" he chuckled, tapping the ends of his long, black fingernails together.

The delivery man, obviously uncomfortable the mortician already knew his name, gulped. He knew the stories about this man. It was odd how ever Undertaker in this shop looked the exact same...never changed. Never aged. And the shop still stood despite the Great Fire (and the war going on). Nevertheless, he was on business. No money would be made cowering down to an old geezer. "Ye-no! No, that's not what I'm here for. There's a shipment here for you."

"Oh~? A shipment for me~?" Undertaker chortled to himself, interlacing his fingers together as he slowly tilted his head the other way. "How peculiar. I didn't order anything. Are you pranking me, young man?"

Young man? Fredrick was forty-six! And the old mortician didn't seem old at all. If his hair hadn't been silver, and he wasn't so heavily scarred, he could have been twenty. "U-Um, no. I assure you, this isn't a prank. You've seemed to have won a very hefty sum of...Oreo cookies?" Fredrick looked at his board again in confusion, looking at the name and address along with the order next to it. No, it wasn't a mistake. But what the hell were Oreo cookies? He hadn't heard of them before. Then again, he didn't have much money during this war to buy more than a loaf of bread and measly peanut butter.

"Cookies? Ahehehe~ I love cookies. Show me, show me!" he chirped, clapping his hands together as the old man reached the door faster than Fredrick could blink. How the hell could he do that?

Shaking his head, Fredrick went to the door slowly and opened the door for the mortician. Outside was a rather large vehicle made of steel sitting on the side of the street. "Britain Postal Service" was painted along the side, and the delivery man stepped forward to open the back. "In here."

Peeking from behind Fredrick, Undertaker frowned at the sight of the dozens of cardboard boxes sitting in the tuck/car. "What is this? These aren't cookies."

"They are. However, they are so small you can pack many packages in these boxes. Do you require assistance in carrying th...ese..." Fredrick slowed down his sentence and watched with wide eyes as the man, thought to be ancient with age, lifted nearly seven of these boxes at once. They wobbled and tilted and swayed as he started to carry them to his shop.

"Just set them on the sidewalk, lad. I'll take care of the rest!" he called as he started to haul the several boxes back to his mortuary.

Snapping out of his trance, the delivery man nodded quickly and began unloading the boxes out onto the street. In a period of only thirty minutes, nearly one hundred and forty something Oreo cookie-filled cardboard boxes can been taken and packed inside the humble, old shop belonging to Undertaker. Signing the notepad with a grin, the mortician smiled brightly at Fredrick. "Safe travels, Freddie~! In this war, who knows who could get hit by a stray bullet~!" he chuckled, waving Fredrick off.

Fredrick gulped, briskly walking back to his truck as fast as he could. As much as he loved his pay, this was way too scary for him. This man was fucking insane! Starting the truck by pulling the cord in the engine, he hopped in as the truck sputtered and coughed, slowly making its way down the streets.

Undertaker watched the man leave before he hummed to himself, walking back into his shop and closing the old wooden door behind him with that lovely creak. All he could see on the entire right side for the shop was nothing but cardboard boxes. Oreo cookies, hmm? It wouldn't hurt to try a little nibble~

Licking his lips, he slowly pulled open a cardboard box to reveal several little turquoise boxes. On the top was a small brown circle and the words that read:

"Oreo

Biscuit

National Biscuit

Company"

Curiously, he traced the neat engraving before opening one to see little brownish circles packed neatly inside the box. Taking one of these curious cookies, he inspected it with a pensive frown. They were a blackish-brownish round cookie with a white cream-like or frosting-like center. He hadn't seen anything like it before. Timidly, Undertaker took a small bite from the miniature cookie.

And his mind exploded.

It was like an orgasm in his mouth. The little bits of cookie were melting on his tongue, having their own little private party with his taste buds. Chocolate combined with the thick white cream as a thick saliva filled his mouth and was backed with a low moan. He never thought a mere cookie could taste so good. Undertaker then chuckled, devouring one cookie...and then another...and then another...AND then another!

The next thing he knew...no one saw him for the next four weeks.

Xxx

Ronald Knox yawned, interlacing his fingers together behind his neck, elbows in the air as he walked nonchalantly on the street. He wasn't really going anywhere in particular, who the hell was he kidding? The Dispatch had grown curious after the old mortician by the name of Undertaker had gone missing a month ago. They'd sent him on a quick mission to check on the status of the old geezer. The blonde sighed, hoping that the old man wasn't back to his old tricks. All the blonde remembered of him were those zombies Undertaker created on the Campania. Even his shiny, new, expensive silver watch had been broken in the fight! His watch!

Snorting in anger, he shook his head and rolled his eyes. He better not be making any more of those stupid dolls! After all, he had a date tonight!

As he saw the large purple sign in his sights, he grumbled under his breath. "This better not be a fucking waste of my time, old geezer."

When he went to knock on the door, the brush of his knuckles pushed the door open with a long, low crickity-crack. The inside of the shop was a deep, dark black, and he could see nothing as peered inside.

"What the shit...?" Ronald frowned, slowly stepping inside. "Undertaker? This better not be some sick joke. This is _special _agent Knox.I...I can have you detained for agent harassment!" he called into the darkness, a small sheen of sweat on his pale brow as he knew not what he would have to face.

There was a low giggle from the back of the shop, and Ronald noticed a small indent in the wall where there might even be a door. His hands reached out in front of him, and he cursed under his breath. So this is how the blind felt, huh? Where the fuck were the lights, anyway?

Gloved hands touching a door frame, he felt his way along the long stretch of what seemed to be an endless wooden wall.. His nerves were jittery, breath coming out in shaky pants and hitching every time he thought he had a splinter in his fingers. Was he scared? Of course he wasn't scared! He was Ronald Knox, he wasn't scared of anyth-

"HOLYFUCKINGSHITNUGGETSOFAMOTHERFUCKINGGODDAMNMUFFIN?!" Ronald jumped sky high, which,for a Shinigami, could be quite high. His blonde head hit the ceiling, and he crashed back down on his rear end. "What the fucking shit was that?!"

A tiny mouse squeaked, sitting at his feet and nibbling on what looked like a little crumb in the darkness as his eyes very slowly adjusted to the cave-like lighting. It was no bigger than the palm of his hand. "Uh...Hey..." he said slowly, gulping before he nearly face-palmed. He sighed, laying down with a grown as he pouted. The great Ronald Knox of Awesomeness had been scared shitless...by a mouse-wonderful.

The mouse scrambled onto his chest, sniffing him curiously before the blonde coughed. It scampered off into the blackness as Ronald started to stand again.

"All right, Knoxie. You can do this. No big deal. Just a little darkness. You'll be just fine. Yup...Just...great..." swallowing, he started his journey down he hallway before he stumbled, realizing the long wall hand ended just as his grip faltered. "So much for following that all the way."

Judging on the smell, this was probably the kitchen. Feeling in front of him, his hands came in contact with a hard wooden surface, and he mapped it with his fingers and palms. A chair-this would mean he was definitely in the kitchen.

All Ronald could hear as he explored the large expanse of the kitchen in the darkness was his own breathing and the eerie creaking off the wooden floorboards beneath his brand new, white Oxfords. His hands glided over that of an iron stove and pots and pans hanging from the old walls. Scampering followed his path as he was sure there were either mice, rats, insects, or another kind of living creature scurrying along the wall. The reaper's journey continued for what seemed forever, and Ronald wondered just how big this kitchen was. That was until a dark, deep chuckle was heard from a ways off.

There was no mistaking that laugh. Everyone knew that laugh. Undertaker-it was definitely the Undertaker he heard. At least the old man wasn't dead yet.

The key word was: _yet._

Who knew whether or not the blonde might murder him for his trouble or making him late to his date?

Pressing forward toward the sound, Ronald found a wall and followed it before there was another indent in the wall-another door. Smirking with triumph, he slowly opened the door and took a step...only to find that there wasn't anything there.

His foot was in the air, and gravity did the rest.

Missing the first step, he tumbled face first down the stairs. Rolling and flipping, his body banged and twisted violently down the wooden stairs. He could only hear dreadful thumps in his ears as he felt his head falling down against the many steps repeatedly; a sharp pain in his mouth after he fell halfway. His hands tried to grasp rails that weren't there, and he dimly thought in that ephemeral few seconds: 'what kind of stairs didn't have railing'? Obviously, these stairs did not. Or mayhap the stairs were so wide he couldn't reach them. Either way, there was nothing to save him on the long way down.

By the time Ronald reached the bottom, he landed face first into a solid, freezing slab of cement that was the floor. His body was still on the stairs upside down before his foot slowly pushed him the rest of the way down with one more 'thump'. There he lay on the grey, dank floor of the obsidian basement.

"Ugh..." Ronald groaned, holding his head as he slowly pulled himself together again and sat up on his knees. Looking around, he could see even less than what he could upstairs...if that was even possible. Wiping his nose, he could taste the coppery substance in his mouth from when he had bit his tongue on the way down. Ronald didn't remember the pain of falling, only the pain that he was experiencing now all over his battered body. He bet he looked like a complete wreck now-all bloody and bruised from his fall. However, it probably wasn't something that was dangerously life threatening.

Slowly getting to his feet, he managed to speak out into the darkness. "Undertaker? You down here?"

Most of the times, basements weren't as scary as they were, and they weren't scary especially when compared to the basements one saw in a movie. However, this one lived up to those in the movies. It was dark and cold, and he thought he could hear the rats and mice squeaking and scampering all around. All he could see was a few inches away from his face, and his body racked with violent shivers that caused his body to ache due to the straining of his mild injuries.

Slowly, Ronald curled his fingers to make sure they worked, making sure he could still land a punch if need be; or, grip the handle of his beloved Death Scythe. As soon as he was sure that everything was a go, he took a few tentative steps forward before he found himself walking through the vast expanse of this massive basement.

Ronald was forced to dodge miscellaneous items all over (which he prayed were not millions of coffins), and dodge the millions of cobwebs he constantly ran into. Again and again he called into the expanse, trying to find the Undertaker; although, he wasn't even sure if he was going in circles. He was completely lost. And then he heard it.

"Ahehehe~ Who is it~?"

There was a small flash of green in the darkness as Ronald heard the distinctive voice and giggle of none other than the one and only Undertaker.

"Agent Knox of the Dispatch, London Division. I think you remember me from the Campania?" he said, trying to make conversation so he could hear the retired reaper's voice, trying to follow it desperately.

Despite Ronald's wishes, there were no more words spoken by the old mortician. What he heard instead was actually the quite munching on something like that mouse...only louder. As Ronald followed the munching, he could make out the tiny flickering of a petite candle in the corner of the room. His eyes, unused to the sudden light, burned so fiercely that it felt like little needles piercing the whites of his polychromatic orbs. Forefingers gently rubbed his eyelids in slow circles as he willed himself to calm down. Fear meant mistakes...and to make one now could mean death.

"Great...just great. Go towards the creepy, lone candle, Knoxie. Great idea," he muttered under his breath as he opened his eyes cautiously approached it. While he neared it, a large figure that could only be the Undertaker slowly appeared...and several small boxes littered all around.

Step after step was taken before a loud crunch echoed off the dark, dank walls of the basement. Under his foot was one of those turquoise boxes, smashed against the cement floor in a crumble of a greenish-blue and black crumbs.

"You stepped on them..."

"Uh, stepped on what?" Ronald squinted as he tried to make out what he had squished when he felt a hand at first on his shoulder, and then an entire body as he was pinned to the floor. His back pressed against the stone cold floor, his lungs deflated under a large figure so that it was impossible to let more than the breath he had been holding in. Frantically, he attempted to summon his small butterfly knife as a back up scythe before something was rudely shoved into his mouth...

Xxx

"Sutcliff...Please restrain yourself," muttered the ever stoic William T. Spears as he adjusted his glasses.

Their nice dress shoes clicked repeatedly on the pavement toward one of the oldest buildings in all of London, England-Undertaker's mortuary. They were short staffed as it was during this Great War, and they didn't need to lose any more members of their tiny division. Even with the campaign against attacking London by Kaiser Wilhelm II, there was no telling whether or not the demons would be running amok and stirring up the headaches of William T. Spears.

"I can't~!" squealed the redhead, pouting as he shook his head with a cry. "My Ronnie has been stolen!"

"We do not know that yet, Sutcliff. There are many possibilities. We must not chose one at the moment, no matter how likely you believe it seems."

Huffing, Grell crossed his arms and kicked a turquoise box angrily before he realized a few more boxes like it littering the ground outside the shop where they were approaching. "What the...?" Uncrossing his arms, the redhead knelt down to pick up a box and read it aloud. "Oreo...Biscuits...?"

"Oreo Biscuits? They are a new brand of cookie invented nearly three years ago in 1912...perhaps 1913. In the next hundred years, the company shall name them as just Oreos, and presumably they will be the most popular cookie brand in North America...and nearly the entire world. Odd..." he muttered, his usual stoic lips pressing together in a pensive expression. "Come, will shall receive answers once we go inside."

Grell nodded, standing and heading toward the door when he realized it was wide open. The two exchanged dual-colored glances for but a moment before they both rushed in simultaneously. "RONNIE?!" he called, looking around the dark shop littered with the same boxes they had found outside.

"Knox?! Where are you? Show yourself! Undertaker?" William went down the hallway to the living area of the shop where they appeared in what seemed to be the kitchen and noticed a door wide open. The light from outside allowed them enough light in here, but the room, likely the basement, was still pitch black. It seemed more like a dark tunnel to their doom, or even an endless abyss. "Sutcliff...this way!"

Rushing besides him, Grell looked over his shoulder toward the darkness in front of them. He bit his lip with his shark-like teeth, the coppery taste of blood dripping onto his crimson tongue before he cautiously spoke up in a near whisper. "Do you think Ronnie-darling is down there?"

"There is only one way to discover that, Sutcliff. Come," he instructed with a nod, cautiously going down the stairs and reaching for a railing.

"Oh...so dark~! I may need you to protect me!" he cried, hugging William and then realizing his mistake later.

Gravity grabbed them in a firm fist, tugging them down with little mercy as they began their descent fast-first. The redhead screamed with wide eyes, hugging William tightly as the ravenette landed first on his back, before it was like the snowball affect. Like a snowball being rolled down the top of a hill, it seemed that as they rolled the pain that they experienced only grew until they hit the bottom of the wooden stairs. William's head collided with a smack on the cement floor before he felt his ribs and diaphragm smashing against one another. There was a heavy weight pressing against his chest, and when he heard the moan above, he knew it was Grell.

"Sutcliff...get off..." he muttered, trying to push the other off as his head spun from the impact on his cranium.

Grell giggled, grinning wide as he rolled off William, seemingly unharmed. "They didn't mean it literally when they said: '_falling_ for a girl~!'" he cooed, chortling whilst he stood and helped William off the floor.

Grabbing the offered hand, William staggered to his feet with a slight hiss. His entire body was bruised and sore, but he was more concerned about the glasses he wore. Did they break on the floor? However, his thoughts were interrupted by Grell's cliche statement. "You are no woman, Sutcliff," he mumbled, brushing his nice tuxedo off as he inspected the vast amount of abyss. There was no way to check his glasses anyway.

"Oh?" William's head perked up by Grell's voice. "What is this, Will-darling~? Isn't that a little~ suspicious?"

The two could make out a lone candle as goosebumps crawled over William's skin. In the distance in the direction of the candle, they could both hear wanton moans and little crunches. "Stay aware, Sutcliff," he muttered, summoning his scythe as he strode forward. "Whoever is there, speak up now."

"Oooohhhhh, we have guests~!" crooned a voice as a dark chuckle caused the little bumps to crawl further over the pale flesh of both reapers. "Did you come to enjoy this with us~?"

Grell tensed, gritting his teeth as he too summoned his scythe. His gloved hands gripped the familiar handle of the chainsaw weighing down his lean arms. The redhead's body tensed, eyes narrowing into dangerous daggers and muscles knotted into hard bricks. Despite his feminine, small frame, he held the strength of more than three grown men put together and twice the speed of Usain Bolt himself.

"Come play with us~" the voice said, another crunch heard in the dark, candlelit corner.

"To hell with you," Grell growled, rushing forward as he held his chainsaw, feeling his finger pull the rigger as the engine became a lion, roaring and echoing off the walls of the dank, dark basement. He bared his teeth, legs ready to spring into the fight when he froze with wide eyes. What he saw wasn't what he expected.

Undertaker and Ronald were sitting there in front of the candle, black crumbs on their faces as well as the little stubble of a beard and mustache on the blonde's face. They stared blankly at the one who held a massive red scythe of whirring, silver blades sharpened to a deadly point. At their feet was a giant bowl of fresh milk and several boxes filled with the little round cookies they held to their lips.

Stupidly, Ronald swallowed, watching as the redhead drooped his arms to rest the chainsaw at his side just as it died down with a gentle purr. Grell's eyes were wide, just staring at them while William stood in the background just as awestruck as his subordinate.

"Nice of you to join us, Grell!" Undertaker chirped before the two of them burst into a crazed laughter, holding their stomachs and falling onto their backs in unison.

"WHAT THE HELL?! YOU NEARLY GAVE US BOTH A HEART ATTACK!"

Ronald shrugged as he dipped his cookie into the bowl nonchalantly before sticking it in his mouth and speaking with his mouth full. "Calm down, senpai! I've just been hanging out with the old geezer all night. You should try these, they're DELICIOUS!"

Holding a cookie up with a smile, Grell grimaced at the unbrushed teeth with cookie crumbs stuck on and in between his teeth. It was absolutely nasty. How could anything in the world possibly taste as wonderful as Ronald had said. He rolled his eyes, snatching away the cookie. "Give me that," he hissed, popping it into his mouth before his eyes widened and then relaxed. "Oh? Mmmmm..." moaned the redhead, closing his eyes with a smile as he shivered in delight. This was the most wonderful thing he had ever tasted. Even better than his favorite red velvet cake or triple strawberry layered trifle.

"Yeah, good, right?" Ronald quipped with a chuckle, grabbing himself another cookie.

"You mean to tell me..." William interrupted with a frown, stepping forward from behind the red reaper now stuffing his mouth with Oreos. "Undertaker has been in this basement for a month...eating Oreo cookies? And you have miraculously just joined him with no rhyme or reason?"

"Yup!" Ronald started to laugh before Undertaker chimed in, the reapers bursting back into their laughter whilst they chortled and snorted without any restraint.

"Come on! Try one!" Undertaker squealed, trying to overcome his mirth. A small milk mustache on his top lip graced his face as he held a cookie up to William. "It's wonderful!"

Frowning, William reluctantly took a cookie and inspected it as if he were to find some sort of bug crawling on it or a dust bunny sitting atop it. To have some sort of inanimate object such as a cookie corrupt the mind of his subordinates and the legendary Death himself was a most troubling thing indeed. Would it be asking for trouble if he dared to take a bite now? No, he needed to find out the source of this insanity poisoning the minds of these reapers. True, most of them had already been mad to begin with. Yet, as far as he knew, Ronald Knox had a fairly straight mind. William didn't quite appreciate the tardies in the morning, hangovers nearly all the time, constant cussing, bad breath, and flirting and partying consistently; however, it was nothing compared to the mind of a few 'certain' employees and retirees in mind.

It was time to figure out just what in the world was so amazing about these cookies...and he dared to take a bite.

That was the day the Dispatch lost William T. Spears.

Xxx

"AHHAHAHAHAHA! Are you serious, Will-senpai?!" laughed Ronald Knox nearly a year later: a giant row of bowls filled with milk sat exactly-lined up in front of the reapers-four in total.

"Indeed, I kissed the Undertaker once," he admitted, eating what seemed to be his millionth cookie as he nodded and looked to the shaggy haired mortician nearby.

"Yes, and you are a terrible kisser, Willy," Undertaker chuckled, poking William in the side before clawing the side of his ribs in a tickle attack.

William broke out into a fit of giggles, the ancient tickling him before they all jumped in. "Stop! Stop! Stop!" he cried over and over as he rolled on the floor.

Grell started to laugh, snorting as he put a leather clad hand over his mouth. "William?! A terrible kisser?! What a lie~!" he hollared, shaking his head as his face tinted a bright pink and leaning against his favorite little Ronnie-kins. "If anyone is a bad kisser it's Ronnie!"

Ronald started to laugh with his mentor and best friend, rocking back and forth as he began to cry in his uncontrollable mirth. His hand reached out to one of the boxes before he found it empty. Mellowing out, the blonde frowned slightly and looked through the boxes scattered in front of them. "H-hey, wait a minute guys, wait a minute..."

The other reapers paused, looking at Ronald expectantly as their amusement slowly died as they realized in mute horror what had happened.

Gloved hands fumbled with boxes as the blonde flipped them over and tossed them in desperation as one by one the boxes remained empty until there was one...single box. They all stared blankly at it, four pairs of polychromatic green and yellow eyes no longer blinking when they all focused on that one square form.

Grell swallowed before lunging for the box, scrambling to open it before he paused.

"Well~?" Undertaker asked, the reapers all peering over the redhead's shoulder.

It was a defining moment for all of them. It may have changed the fate of their beings and the entire WORLD.

Because in that box...Was one...last...cookie...

THE END


End file.
